Old Acquaintances
by Jhessill
Summary: Two people meet after an ambush and find their paths are similar. Just a fic done for fun.
1. Ambush

Disclaimer: World of Warcraft is property of Blizzard Entertainment. Places, events, and some people are property of World of Warcraft and thus property of Blizzard. I am making no money off this fic and would appreciate it greatly if I wasn't sued for having a little muse bite. Thanks!

Old Acquaintances

The forgotten, plagued land lay unusually quiet. Right away the lone rider knew something was off in the area. His nose twitched, as if testing the air. Disease. Famine. Tauren. Hazel eyes scanned the area through a T-shaped opening in his helm. '_The Horde are in the area,'_ he thought. Urging his horse forward, the warrior kept watch.

The dull clop of his horse's hooves were stilled by a frigid blast of air that froze it to the ground. _Mage,_ he told himself. He dismounted as soon as the ice faded – which was quickly – and sent his horse charging away from the oncoming battle with a smart slap to its rump. A big, beefy, bipedal bovine – a Tauren – warrior charged him from the left, but the human easily evaded… only to grunt in surprise as an undead rogue ambushed him from behind. The Alliance warrior shook off the attack after a quick breath. He had reinforced his back plate years ago after a near crippling encounter with yet another rogue. He swung his great sword in a wide circle whirlwind attack that struck both Tauren and the undead twice before they backed away. The lone fighter watched in disbelief as their wounds healed. His eyes narrowed. The healer had to go.

'_Yes, indeed. That cleric has got to die'._ He ignored the healing melee combatants and ran towards the cleric with intent to kill, but was stopped by another wave of ice. A close following fireball knocked into his shield and pushed him backwards… breaking the ice from his plated boots, but sending him into combat with the Tauren once again. Steel met steel and the human grunted as more magic – it felt like arcane missiles – slammed into his back. He stumbled with a snarl. '_Damn mages!'_

The sounds of combat reached her sensitive ears and quickly the rogue vanished into the lengthening shadows. The battle was near. Horde were near. As she slipped beyond the sparse trees she saw several things at once. The first was the unbalance of the fight before her. The Alliance warrior dodged a blow from a Tauren. '_Mage. Cleric. The rogue may be a problem, but let's start with the easy guy.'_ She crept quietly behind the cleric and blew in his ear. Distracted, the cleric started to turn. He let out a strangled gurgle as a dagger made short work of his throat even as a second one found purchase in his heart. She was gone even before the others saw her.

The Tauren swung his axe around, but it skimped off the other fighter's shoulder plate. Predatory teeth gleamed from the slit in the human's helm. "My turn," he taunted in Tauren.

The Horde's eyes widened. "You speak my tongue."

"Know thy enemy," he replied. He brought his sword up, around, and downward into the weak point of the cow's armor – where the collar bone met the neck. The human jerked harder when his blade met sinew, muscle, and bone. One more downward, diagonal chop and even the platemail armor parted for his freshly sharpened blade.

The Tauren's eyes rounded in surprise, but his mind told him that any minute his ally would heal him. He'd be able to show this Alliance fool the true power of the Horde. It never came. He fell off the human's sword and towards the ground. He knew he'd not be getting back up. He twitched and knew no more.

The human winced as a dagger found purchase in his thigh. _Damn rogues._

The Alliance rogue smiled darkly as she raised her daggers again. Mages were so easy to kill – their cloth robes offered no resistance to the bite of her daggers. This mage was no different. Her daggers found purchase in the space between his ribs and pierced his lung and kidney. As the mage slid off her weapons she stood straighter and surveyed the rest of the battle. With the casters eliminated, it seemed the warrior had things well in hand.

The Tauren warrior was dead, but the undead rogue still darted around him like a child on a sugar rush. It was rather annoying, really. Alliance patience won out. The rogue finally moved and so did he. His shield smacked the rogue in what remained of his face. The thief went down and so did the warrior's sword – severing the undead head from its corpse.

"Nice finishing move, warrior," said a smooth, alto voice.

Hazel eyes met ice blue ones as he looked up at the source of the voice.

She – oh, yes, the figure before him was definitely a she – wore midnight black leather armor that seemed painted on her. It molded and caressed her every curve. It was not a shiny black, but it did reflect light in a couple of places. At the same time it seemed to suck up and dull the very light around her. Her skin was flushed and her hair- straight, caramel brown in color – was pulled back into an 'innocent' looking pony tail. Her sword belt, he noticed, held a matching set of two very wicked looking daggers. He recognized her attitude as relaxed, but could see her muscles tense as he studied her.

"Patrick Duggan," he said as a way of introduction.

She took the opportunity to do an inspection of him even as she replied, "Allisondre Steelblade."

He was clad from head to toe in plate mail armor that, despite several new scratches, gleamed in the plagued light. What skin she could see was tanned bronze. Either that or he was naturally bronzed. The muscles she could see under the armor made it clear that it was not the plate mail bulking him up, but merely downplaying his more chiseled appearance. She got the impression that he'd been carved from solid rock and brought to life. He removed his helmet to wipe some sweat from his eyes and whistling for something in the distance. Allisondre was rewarded with an unobstructed view of his face. His hair was short and 'spiky' - for lack of a better term – and he had sideburns that reached to the bottom of his ears. His mustache – as brown as the rest of his hair – rested above his upper lip and was well groomed… like the whole of him.

Patrick nodded his head as his horse came and nuzzled him in the shoulder. "Easy (name)," he said as he took the reins of the white steed.

Allisondre clucked her tongue twice and a dappled pinto came into view. "Where are you headed, Patrick?"

"To Duskwood, milady. I am sent to the Swamp of Sorrows in search of a temple there. The last adventurer sent did not yet return."

"Ah," Allisondre smiled, amused. "I must return to Darkshire myself. Perhaps we are destined to travel there together."

The warrior nodded his head. "My father once told me that there are no chance encounters. Lady Destiny pushes people together for her own purposes. I would be honored if you chose to travel with me."

"The honor is mine, noble warrior."

The sickly, plagued lands were left behinds as the two - mounted on horseback -left the borders of the Plaguelands and entered the Alterac Mountains. The trip to Duskwood would take them many days and through many places. Their first stop would be Southshore to restock their supplies.

To Be Continued…


	2. Discoveries

Disclaimer: World of Warcraft is property of Blizzard Entertainment. Places, events, and some people are property of World of Warcraft and thus property of Blizzard. I am making no money off this fic and would appreciate it greatly if I wasn't sued for having a little muse bite. Thanks!

Chapter 2

"So why assassin," Patrick asked as the two neared the small port town of Southshore.

Allisondre smirked slightly as she looked at him from the saddle of her mare. "The first question you ask and it's to assume I am an assassin?"

The warrior pulled his steed to a halt in the middle of the road. "Aye," he drawled. "I've seen rogues do what you did back there many a time. You are an assassin. Your skill rivals that of the rogue that lies dead in those plagued lands."

Her mount was slowed as she looked at him. "That's not saying much," she replied, "seeing as he is dead."

Pat nodded. "Aye, which is why I didn't ask you why a bard."

That elicited a chuckle from the woman. "Bards hardly ever leave town anymore, 'tis so unsafe to travel from home. Bard champions are stuff of legends."

"You are merely strengthening my position that you are an assassin, probably wanted for murder somewhere."

Her blue eyes narrowed on their own accord even as she started moving again. "I am an assassin, if that has helped you sleep these last several nights."

"Why," he asked again.

"Answer me why you chose to travel the path of a mercenary warrior instead of the noble paladin and I shall answer your question, Patrick."

"You never used to be this cold, Alli," he whispered as he nudged his mount into a trot to catch up with her.

Southshore was one of the many cookie cutter towns that the humans of Azeroth had built as they grew. It was an open town – no outer wall protected it from the local wildlife. The steeple of the town hall could easily be seen towering over the rest of the humble settlement. A simple set of stables, several homes where people did their daily business and even an inn graced – or was it marred – the coast line here. The dock raped the water… must to the unrest of the local murlocs there… and a common fisherman tried his luck in the hostile waters.

Allisondre's first stop was the local smithy. Her own horse, Artemis, needed new shoes for the upcoming journey. With the money exchanged and a promised time of half a candlemark, the female headed towards the inn with a scowl on her face.

Patrick was already there with a pint of ale in one hand and a half-pint in the other. He offered the smaller glass to the scowling female when she sat down at his table. He hid his surprise when she took the larger one instead. "So," he chanced again, "why an assassin?"

"It really isn't any of your concern, warrior," her voice cold as steel. "I chose my path based on my skills. If you don't like what I can do, please, feel free to leave my company. I saved your skin, not the other way around."

"Testy," Pat remarked. "What's got your panties in a knot?"

Allisondre's eyes narrowed. "You assume I'm an assassin. Those people work for money and have no scruples with whom they kill." She brought her drink to her lips and took a long swallow of it to quench her throat.

"Would you prefer 'rogue' or 'thief' instead?"

The cup thumped the table with a thud and she found her hand halfway to her dagger before she spoke. "Why travel with me, Pat," she spat, "if you don't like my occupation? Why pull that shit phrase about 'no chance encounters' if only to badger me about what I do when others' heads are turned?"

The tip of Patick's sword knocked her hand away even as he shook his head. "You don't want to do that, Alli," he warned.

She hadn't even seen him move, but the cool blade against her skin simmered her temper enough to allow her head to clear. Allisondre moved her hand back to the top of the table.

"Still quick to temper," he mused so only she could hear. "I'd thought the stage would have taken that out of you."

Allisondre frowned at him. "Who are you to know so much about me?"

He chuckled lightly and called for another round of drinks. "Search your mind, Starlet, and then answer your own question."

The name Starlet brought back a flood of memories that the rogue had chosen to forget a good number of years ago. Memories of a growing childhood friend of hers who left their little home before the war to seek out training... but that child had the Light with him. He was going to be a paladin. He had promised her he'd return to see her when his initial training was complete. Then the war broke out and she had received word that he had been sent to Northrend with the Stormwind Militia. That's when she had left the stage and joined with some mercenaries. Mathis Shaw in the great capital took an interest in her as she was rotting in the stockades and petitioned the king to allow her to become one of the city's spies. She lost track of days and nights while waiting to hear from her paladin. After being released from Shaw's services – her debt to society paid – she gave up on seeing her friend again. She instead took to the road to make her way as an honorable citizen adventurer of the Eastern Kingdoms. However, could her paladin be alive? "Did Sir William Patick MacDooggan send you to find me," she questioned.

"No," he replied. "He need not send me, for I am him."

Allisondre scoffed. "Well played, warrior, but not well enough. My friend was a paladin, not a simple warrior."

Patrick frowned. "No," he corrected, "he went with the Light to seek training for that holy path, but failed."

"William could do anything. He ne'er failed at one thing growing up."

"I don't go by William anymore, Starlet. When I failed the Light I was cast from my father's home and my title and name stripped from me. I chose Patrick Duggan," he informed her. "That is who I chose to be and who I am now."

Allisondre's eyes widened owlishly. His last sentence had come word for word from the poem she had written William before he had left. "From this day forth no distance will matter…"

Patrick held up a hand. "Shall I just give you the parchment to save you the trouble of remembering?"

Quick as lightening the she rogue cleared the table and knocked Patrick on his back… covering his bulky frame with her slender one. "I thought you were dead," she cried, pelting his chest with several punches. "Why didn't you tell me it was you earlier?"

"Nice to see you again too, Alli," he chuckled, making no more to defend himself from the angry female, but holding two fingers up at the guards who were moving towards them – a gesture of 'no, it's alright'. After all, Alli seemed to be remembering that he would hit back anyone who hit him above the neck. After several more punches landed against him – more than one of them would leave a bruise in the morning – Pat grabbed her fists and sat back up off the floor. "You seemed so cold, dear friend. I didn't know how to tell you."

Allisondre didn't allow him to move any further than to a sitting up position. "I waited for you. When you left, I waited. When you dropped off the face of Azeroth, I mourned for you. I left home searching for hope… for you and I find you in the middle of the Plaguelands trying to kill some Horde and… how long did you know who I was?"

"As soon as you introduced yourself," he answered. "You voice has changed a bit since I left home, so it didn't register until your name. You didn't seem to recognize me and those hostile lands didn't seem like the place for a reunion."

Though she'd not admit to him out loud, Allisondre knew the Plaguelands were indeed no place for stalling. The sooner one got in and done what needed to get done meant that they could get out ever sooner.

"What say we have our drinks and a meal and continue this conversation at the table," Patrick suggested.

"Don't think I've forgiven you, Patrick," she retorted as she stood up. "You will have to make this up to me."

Patrick smiled at his friend. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Alli."

_To be continued…_

Author's note: Woot! Chapter Two up and completed.  Chapter 3 is in the works. Next stop: Arathi Highlands!


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